"Never mind," answered the Lieutenant, "the instruments are all
right. Fisher, you can get the tooth out, that's all you want,
isn't it?"
The Lieutenant was impatient; and besides he did not wish any
slur cast upon his precious instruments.
So Fisher took up the forceps, and clattered around amongst
Ellen's sound white teeth. His hand shook, great beads of
perspiration gathered on his face, and I perceived a very strong
odor of Cocomonga wine. He had evidently braced for the occasion.
It was, however, too late to protest. He fastened onto a molar,
and with the lion's strength which lay in his gigantic frame, he
wrenched it out.
Ellen put up her hand and felt the place. "My God! you've pulled
the wrong tooth!" cried she, and so he had.
I seized a jug of red wine which stood near by, and poured out a
gobletful, which she drank. The blood came freely from her mouth,
and I feared something dreadful had happened.
Fisher declared she had shown him the wrong tooth, and was
perfectly willing to try again. I could not witness the second
attempt, so I put the candle down and fled.
The stout-hearted and confiding girl allowed the second trial,
and between the steamboat agent, the Lieutenant, and the red
wine, the aching molar was finally extracted.
